


Wounds

by Dain



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: First Aid, Friendship, Gen, Injury, Silver Age, Stitches, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:16:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dain/pseuds/Dain
Summary: Warren needs stitches after a mission gone sideways; Scott struggles with the idea of friendship.





	Wounds

“Stop moving,” Scott said for the fifth time.

“It _hurts_.” Warren prided himself on his pain tolerance, but having to sit still on the cold, hard bathroom floor while someone else poked a needle into already-tender skin over and over again was pushing him to his limits.

“It’s going to keep hurting until I’m done,” Scott informed him. “And the more you move around the longer it’s going to take.” Warren felt the needle go in again and his wings twitched, but this time he managed to not smack Scott in the face. “Next time don’t start making nice with the target. You’re lucky she didn’t hit bone.”

“I didn't know she was who we were looking for,” Warren said. “She said she had information on the killings, I was following a lead...”

“You were going to get yourself killed,” Scott snapped. Warren winced as another stitch was closed. “You shouldn't have let your guard down.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, danger could be anywhere. But,” Warren added, feeling he had the right to defend himself, “most people aren’t actually serial killers. Much less serial killer mutants.”

Poke went the needle. Warren could feel the thread being drawn through the new hole in his skin and suppressed a shudder. “It only takes one to kill you.”

Warren couldn’t disagree with that, although he did feel it was significant that he was actually still alive. He let Scott make a few more stitches in silence, but something had occurred to him, something that settled in his mind like a rock at the bottom of his shoe, not to be ignored. Finally, he said, “You don’t think that about us, though, right?”

“What?”

“Us,” Warren repeated, with a vague wave of his hand that was meant to encompass the whole of the mansion. “You’re not keeping an eye on us to make sure we’re not going to stab you or whatever. You trust us, right?”

“Of course. You’re my team.”

“I mean - _ow_ \- I mean as people, not just teammates. Friends.”

Scott was silent, and he finished another stitch before he said anything more, Warren’s heart pounding in his ears the entire time. He wished he could see Scott’s face to get an inkling of what he was thinking. “How would I know?” Scott asked finally.

“How would - you just - you do or you don’t.”

“I…don’t know,” Scott said. “If I trust you. Like that. I don’t know what the difference is.”

“But we are friends, right?”

“I think so.”

“Good,” Warren said. “Because we are. And friends trust each other.”

“Right,” Scott said, and for a moment Warren thought he was agreeing, but then his cool fingers vanished from Warren’s back and he said, “The stitches are done, let me clean this up…”

It was much easier to sit through the gentle sting of antiseptic than it had been to weather the stitches, and soon enough it was over and Warren was pulling his shirt back on, ready to go face whatever lecture Professor Xavier had in store for him about the whole incident. He paused in the doorway and wavered for a moment before he turned around. “Scott?”

“Yeah?” Scott was standing now where he had been sitting, first aid kit in hand. Not for the first time Warren wished he could tell if Scott was actually looking at him from behind his glasses.

“I trust you.”

A multitude of expressions flitted across Scott’s face, too fast for Warren to make them out, before settling on a sad smile. “I know.”


End file.
